


Gone Too Soon, Back Too Fast

by julia_richmond1221



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hospital, F/M, Female Reader, I hope that's okay, I'll Add Tags As I Go On, I'm Bad At Tagging, Pietro is a good brother, Sorry Not Sorry, Wanda Needs a Hug, aka there will be cursing, also i curse a lot, partially, so reader will too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:06:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julia_richmond1221/pseuds/julia_richmond1221
Summary: Pietro Maximoff--yeah, the hard headed, hot-tempered track star that you had a crush on in high school almost ten years ago, that one--has now shown up in your hospital. Covered in gunshot wounds. Fantastic.





	Gone Too Soon, Back Too Fast

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first time writing fanfiction for Marvel, and probably the first story of mine that I've posted online in...Years? I'm a bit rusty, but it's working out!  
> This was originally written for my friend's writing challenge on Tumblr, but honestly, new chapters are going to be popping up on here faster than on there (for once.) I LOVELOVELOVE feedback, so I'd really appreciate hearing y'all's thought's on this! Stay tuned for more updates! Thanks so much!

“Code Three coming our way.”

You straightened your posture as the words from a passing nurse reaches your ears. Code Three meant that whatever happened had reached the point where an ambulance had to use their sirens and lights while bringing a patient back. That meant that this wasn’t just someone using an EMS service because they could—it meant that this could be a _genuine_ emergency.

Nodding a quick goodbye to the nurse you had been leaning over the counter to speak to, you pocketed your cell and rushed to follow your trainer, Maria. You were new to this hospital—New to the field, really—so for the most part, your job was to observe. Learn how things are done, how cases are dealt with. You’d seen some real doozies—from shattered bones and torn skin, to screaming patients and families, to actual death. Thank Christ you’d never had to be the one to tell someone their family had died. You watched that go down, and it felt like a sack of rocks had been dropped onto your chest. You couldn’t imagine being the one to have to break the news.

Maria’s voice continued as you both went down the hall, towards the ambulance entrance hallway. You made a mental note to check the layout of this hospital again when you could. “We’ll be informed the details by one of the paramedics, and I need you to watch closely, and to pay attention. This isn’t a soap opera where everyone fights to be the best—we’re a team here. Understood?” When you answered with a nod, Maria barked out, “I need words, [Y/L/N]!”

“Yes, I understand!” You all but yelped.

You could be confident and loud at times—in certain places, with certain people—but as much as you loved this job, and loved being here, it was all very intimidating. Maria, your lead trainer, was nice, but commanding, and very much intimidating. Around people like her, especially in new places, you felt so small, and it occasionally showed, much to your dismay. It didn’t help that you were running on fumes at the moment, either.

The sliding doors opened, revealing two paramedics you knew very well by now, wheeling someone in on a stretcher. He had a blanket—a sheet, honestly— draped over his body. It was black, but you could still see the dark wetness from blood. One paramedic was behind, holding an IV bag, and the other walked in the front, helping direct the stretcher. Your eyes scanned the man’s body from his feet up, but just as your eyes reached his face, a voice snapped your attention away.

“Multiple gunshot wounds. Entryways are the left thigh—missed the femoral artery—left hip, and abdomen. Pretty sure a kidney is hit. Male, mid-twenties, type O-positive. He went into neurogenic shock during the ride, currently unconscious. Sam was able to put a stop to most of the bleeding, but you need to work on that kidney. Before he passed out, he was able to tell us that he has a slight allergy to Benadryl, but nothing serious.” The man, Steve, dished out the information so quickly that it baffled you. You weren’t a slow speaker by far, but it always surprised you how people could hear, retain, and give out important information so fast, and seemingly easily. Sam, the other paramedic, seemed unfazed as he made sure the IV drip was straightened. Both men’s expressions were unlike their normal smiling, almost carefree ones you normally saw. Their current expressions were hard, focused on what was happening.

Simply nodding at the information given, Maria shot back, “Room 12, get him on a proper gurney. Did he have any ID on him?” Not waiting for an answer, the woman started barking orders out at you and two other nurses. Supplies, bags, medicine, which people were needed, what procedure may need to be done—all that.

You finally were able to clear the jumbled mess of your thoughts as the other two rushed to comply, asking Sam, “What was the situation? Was anyone else hurt? Do you have his name, Emergency Contact?”

You noticed a slightly appreciative glance from Maria at the fact that you had gotten in the game—however long you could for the moment—and Sam passed you a slightly worn wallet. “ID is in there. Didn’t have a phone on him, though. Gang activity, looks like. A kid got scuffled, but was otherwise fine. Just this dude we gotta handle.”

You walked with them the entire time up until they reached the designated room. You watched for a moment as they transferred him from the gurney to the bed— realizing a big reason why they had the blanket; the men had to cut some of his clothes away to get to his wounds. It was a common thing to do, especially with unconscious patients, but you still had to fight the urge to look away. You had to remind yourself that you couldn’t really give a shit about modesty when you were doing this.

The sound of your name being barked out snapped you to attention. One of the nurses ran by you with something in his arms—you couldn’t tell from your angle—and you moved to the side of the bed so you could help switch over the practically empty IV bag to a fresh one. Normally, you were much more focused, but you hadn’t had a proper night sleep in way too long, and it was starting to get to you.

Maria stared at you for a split moment longer than usual, and you realized she had been glaring at the dark circles that were starting to grow more evident under your eyes. You hoped that was concern in her gaze, and not annoyance. It was hard to tell with her.

“I think we’ve got this from here. Go sleep. Make sure your pager is on and ready. You’re no help if you’re zoned out like this.”

Now normally, you’d argue. You’d be a fucking spitball. _No, you’re not benching me. I can do this. I’m fine. Fuck off_. But you were also an adult, and realized that she was absolutely right—in your current state, you were a nuisance if anything. You needed to get back to your usual energetic, actually helpful self. Constantly blanking and staring at what was happening was not going to help anything, and certainly not going to help the patients. So, with a resigned sigh, you nodded at your superior and started on the way to the On-Call Room.

After a few steps, though, you realized you still had the old wallet. Stifling a groan, you ducked your head and made your way to a desk.

“Hey, Nat.” You called to your friend as you met up with her. She had been typing—probably a report. Natasha always made sure to stay on top of whatever work needed to be done. You two had been friends in your early days college days, as well as roomies for a time. She had eventually graduated, being older than you, and moved in with her boyfriend, while you downsized to a studio apartment. It was a joyous surprise when you both found each other in the same hospital. When she looked up, you handed her the item. “This came in with the ambulance. Needs to be logged. His ID should be in there. I’m passing out.”

The redhead smirked. “Dropping your workload on me while you catch some z’s? Okay, I see how it is.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it up to you, swearsies.” You mumbled back with an eyeroll. Fatigue was hitting you like a bus, and you needed to lay down.

“Oooo, ‘swearsies’. Serious business there, babe. I expect major atonement.”

“Mmm, maybe you can count my ‘atonement’ as not telling your boyfriend you call other people babe.”

Natasha, in turn, laughed at your poor attempt at a comeback. “Clint calls you ‘babe’ all the time, if you don’t remember. Hell, you could totally join us sometimes. I don’t know how he feels about poly, but I’m sure we can figure something out.” Your friend then paused, sighed, and looked at you with all-too-knowing eyes. “You really do look like shit, hun. Go get some shuteye, I’ll log this. What’s the guy’s name?”

Already turning around, you shrugged. “Don’t know. Look inside.”

You had only taken a couple steps when you heard Natasha mumble in confusion, her words making your blood run cold;

“’Pietro Maximoff’? Didn’t we go to school with him?”

**Author's Note:**

> So I know Pietro isn't really involved very much in this chapter, and Reader isn't too special (Sleep Deprivation is a bitch) but I promise you, things will start clicking soon! (Also, if you can't tell, I don't know much about hospitals lmao) I hope y'all stick around to see how this story unfolds, but even if you don't, thanks so much for clicking anyway! Feedback is much appreciated!!! Thank you!


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